Imprisoned
by Child-OTKW
Summary: Hunk and Keith deal with Galra hospitality, and some truths are revealed. Part Three of War Games.


Hunk had broken his arm before.

It was years ago, and he had been climbing a tree even though his mother specifically told him not to because it was too dangerous.

A branch had snapped, and he had fallen on his arm wrong.

Hunk did not remember the pain, but he did remember how _long_ it took to heal. To his young mind, five weeks had been a lifetime.

He had had a cast, and his parents had been there to ensure that he did nothing to hinder the healing process. It had been fun, being doted on and cared for so tenderly.

But here, in this cold, musky, empty cell, there was nothing he could do but stare at the unnatural twist of his left leg. He knew – in the same, distant way he understood anything about biology – that his bone was already trying to repair itself.

He knew that if it stayed like this it would heal wrong, and it would have to be re-broken to set it correctly.

Just the thought of having to endure the sharp, overwhelming pain again had his stomach rolling queasily.

He should realign the bone – he _definitely_ should realign the bone, but every breath he took hurt and his body was not responding to his orders. It was difficult to even keep his eyes open, when the sweet release of unconsciousness licked at his heels.

Hunk just wanted to sleep.

 _"You utter bastard!"_

His eyes shot open.

No, he could not sleep. He had to stay awake until Keith returned. He had to see his friend just once before he let himself pass out from the pain.

 _"Don't touch him! For fucks sake –_ HUNK _! Leave him alone!"_

He could still hear Keith's shrill shouts, even days later. He could still see the way his friend had tried so desperately to rip himself free from the guards as Zarkon had torn into him.

He shuddered as the chill seeped into his beaten form, and his legs twitched in a vain attempt to curl his body into a ball.

He remembered, and he hated it.

He had never wanted to know what Keith sounded like when his voice cracked with horror and fear. He had never wanted to see tears on the other boy's face. He had never wanted to listen to his friend's body crumple to the floor after being electrocuted.

Back at the Garrison, Keith had been an untouchable wraith. He was so skilled, so smart, so quiet and cool. Hunk had never even spoken to the other, despite them being in the same year and having half their classes together.

He had never considered that someone like him could be friends with someone like Keith. The other was on a completely different level, just watching his simulations was an experience.

Hunk could admit that he might have had a bit of a crush on Keith, but it was a silly little mix of admiration and envy, and nothing had ever developed beyond getting starry-eyed in the other's presence.

Hunk had looked at Keith and seen someone who was _going places_. Someone who would go on to do great things, because with talent like his, the only direction he could go was up.

But then Kerberos had happened, and Shiro had disappeared, and it was like all that potential had shrivelled and died.

He had known that Shiro and Keith had had an interesting relationship at the Garrison. Even with the six-year age difference, they had clicked in a way Hunk had never seen Keith do with someone before.

He had known they were really good friends, but even he had been shocked at how _badly_ Keith handled things. The way his personality had just shifted, and something dark had started to bubble up inside him.

Hunk had not been present when _The Incident_ occurred, but he had heard the story enough times to get the gist of it.

When the Garrison had introduced the new "Kerberos Rescue Simulation" it had only been a month after the accident. Most of the cadets had been a bit thrown, but it was Keith's reaction that had everyone talking.

The way he had point-blank refused to step into the pod. How, when they finally forced him inside, Keith single-handedly sabotaged his pristine record by crashing the simulation again and again. And how he had stared up at Iverson at the end of his turn and spat _"_ That's _what a 'pilot error' looks like."_

There had apparently been more, but it was after that point that people's imaginations started to twist the truth. All he knew for sure was that the next day, Keith had been discharged, and Lance had been booted into the fighter-class program.

But then Shiro had come back, and they had been swept up in a war that was not their own, and Keith _was his friend_.

The door to the cell slid open and a familiar, thin figure was tossed roughly inside. Keith grunted as he hit the floor, though he rolled and sprung to his feet with a fluidness that made Hunk jealous.

The door shut again before Keith could do anything.

For a moment there was only the sound of their breathing, but then there was the scuff of Keith's boots and the rustle of his clothes.

Hunk twitched when he felt a hand rest gently on his head, long fingers just barely curling into his dirty hair. "Hunk…you alright?"

He wanted to say something light-hearted, channel his inner-Lance and make a quip. But there was nothing funny about their situation, and Hunk had never been particularly good at making jokes.

He doubted Keith would appreciate it, either. So he settled for the truth. "My leg's broken, and I'm having a little trouble breathing."

"Shit…" Keith's hand retreated, and Hunk almost whined at the loss. It had only been a few hours they had been separated, and yet he craved any form of positive physical contact. Keith let out a loud breath.

"Want me to – you know, set it?"

Hunk lifted his head and squinted to catch the rough outline of his friend in the darkness of the cell. He could barely see in this light. "I don't know man, I know it needs to be done, but can you even tell what you're doing?"

The silence from Keith was somehow strained. "I…I can see well enough." There was a heaviness to his statement. "Close your eyes Hunk, I need to fix it before it heals too much."

He let his head drop back to the ground and clamped his eyes closed. He listened as Keith rearranged himself, one of his legs lifting up and over so he was firmly situated on Hunk's pelvis. "Left?" Keith asked, his knee coming up and digging into Hunk's right thigh.

He swallowed harshly, "Y-yeah."

He flinched when Keith's hands brushed against his broken leg, and instantly his friend retracted them. Keith turned his blob-like head and Hunk assumed the other was looking at him. "I can knock you out?"

It was such a blunt offer, and so very _Keith_ that it startled a chuckle out of him. Anyone else would have been delicate when suggesting it, seeing as Hunk was sure the only way he to knock him out in this place would be a punch to the head.

But he appreciated Keith's lack of social grace in this setting. He needed someone who was not afraid to be upfront with him, someone who would not beat around the bush. He reached out and grasped at where he assumed Keith's shoulder was, "I'm good. I need to stay awake anyway – to tell you if something goes wrong."

"…If you're sure."

Hunk took a shuddering breath. "Y-you ever done this before?"

Keith hummed, soft and low. "Once, it hurt like a bitch but I got it right then. I'm sure I can do it again."

"W-who?"

His friend shifted uncomfortably. "Myself. Broken arm."

Hunk blinked sluggishly, "When? Couldn't you just go to the doctor?"

The other laughed bitterly, though none of its fire was aimed at Hunk. "I didn't have the luxury of having a family that cared enough to send me to one at the time. Plus, all those medical courses at the Garrison are still up here somewhere."

He could not see it, but Keith gestured at his own head.

Hunk relaxed a little at the admission. He had completely forgotten about the lessons on how to reset a broken bone. Life at the Garrison seemed like a lifetime ago. He remembered the steps easily enough.

They did not have any anaesthetic, unfortunately, and there was nothing they could use to sterilise the skin to prevent infection. Hunk leaned his head back against the floor and squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that this would _hurt_.

"On the count of three." Keith murmured, his hands hovering over Hunk's leg. "One."

"T-tw – argh!" Hunk's hands scrambled on the smooth floor and his leg spasmed under Keith's firm hold. His body tried to jack-knife, but Keith moved with him and effortlessly kept him pinned. Through the haze of absolute pain, Hunk was kind of amazed that such a little guy like Keith could keep him immobilised so easily.

"Okay," Keith said, "I've got it in place. I just need something to keep it still." One hand remained clamped over the bone, and Hunk could hear tearing noises over the sound of his own harsh panting.

"Hold still." Keith's voice was muffled, as if there was something stuffed in his mouth, and he felt something tightly being wrapped around the site of the break.

It was a long, agonising few minutes where every single movement sent waves of pain rolling through him; but when Keith's hands finally left him, and the other slid off of him, Hunk felt nothing but sharp relief.

"Hunk?"

"Y-you said on t-three. L-iar."

Keith chuckled weakly. "Yeah, sorry about that. Kind of a dick move."

"Nah man…better that I wasn't e-expecting it." Hunk tried to crane his neck up to look at his leg, and even in the poor light, he could see that it was now straight and not bent weirdly. "What'd you use for the wrapping?"

"Huh? Oh – well these undersuits are made from some pretty strong material. You owe me an arm." It was a poor attempt at a joke, but then again, Keith always did have a wonky sense of humour.

"Help me sit up?" Hunk asked.

"You sure? Lying flat is probably better for your lungs."

"Dude, I've been lying like this since they dumped me back in here. I need to move."

Keith's hand seized him under his armpits and hauled him upright as gently as possible, but rather than leaning him up against the wall, his head was pillowed in Keith's lap. The boy himself was propped on the wall. "You said you were having trouble breathing. Sitting up would crush your chest and make things worse. At least this way you are kinda both."

Hunk dropped his head back and sighed, "Thanks Keith."

His friend did not reply, though Hunk felt fingers tangle in his hair and gently begin to stroke. The silence between them stretched and eventually Hunk felt himself begin to drift into a pleasant light sleep.

"I'm sorry." Keith's whisper brought him back, and Hunk frowned slightly. Before he could ask though, Keith continued quietly.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't have let them take you. I should have protected you better. If I had just…It's me he wants. I should have just let them take me. At least then you wouldn't have to go through this."

Keith thought he was asleep. That was the only reason Hunk could think to explain where this sudden vulnerability had come from. It made his heart ache, that his friend felt that he could only express this when he thought no one could hear him.

He wanted to sit up and wrap the smaller boy in a hug, like his mother used to do for him when he was on the brink of crying. He wondered how many hugs Keith had even been given through his life.

From the brief titbits he had collected over the years, Keith was an orphan, and not all his foster homes had been welcoming and safe. As far as Hunk had seen, Shiro was the only person Keith could handle initiating physical contact, and even then it never extended passed a pat on the back or a hand on the shoulder. Hell, whenever Hunk hugged him he tensed up like a rabbit that was about to spring away.

The idea that this boy – this selfless, fiery, kind-hearted boy – had never been given the gift of unconditional love saddened him greatly.

Hunk vowed that if they escaped – when, Hunk, of course they were getting out of here –from Zarkon, and all this intergalactic war business was over, he would introduce Keith to his family. He just knew his mother and sisters would adore the other boy.

It was not nearly enough to repay the debt he felt he owed to Keith, but it was a start.

"I'll get you out of here Hunk, I swear I will. No matter what it takes."

And yeah no, that sounded far too reckless for his liking. Hunk forced his eyes to pry open and he tilted his head to look in the general direction of Keith's head. He could feel the other tense.

"We're both gonna get out of here dude, you and me. The others will come for us eventually, and even if they don't I know we'll be able to come up with a way to beat these Galra losers."

Keith tugged on his hair lightly. "Of course we will, Hunk." But he did not sound confident at all.

"What'd you mean when you said it's you he wants?" He asked instead, because that had been niggling at his mind as well.

Keith did not answer him, and worry bloomed in his chest. He started to push himself up. "Hunk!"

Keith pushed him back into place. "You need to stay still, your leg is going to get worse if you don't rest."

"What did you mean?" he demanded, swatting at Keith's hands as if they were irritating flies and forcing himself to sit up. "Why does Zarkon want you?"

Keith shrunk away from him, "It's nothing for you to worry about."

"Like hell," Hunk scowled, "if you know something you've got to tell me. Is Zarkon hurting you as well?"

And why had that thought not occurred to him earlier? Keith was taken from their cell as often as he was, and while Hunk had never _seen_ an injury, there were plenty of ways for the Galra to hurt them.

Oh God, what if the creepy druids were using their magic on Keith?

"Hunk, seriously, stop caressing my chest – it's weird."

He pulled his hand away in embarrassment, only to shake his head and glare at his friend. "Don't try and distract me Keith – does he hurt you?"

"No!" The word was as sharp as Keith's bayard, cutting off Hunk. "No, he doesn't hurt me." Keith's voice turned uneasy. "He doesn't do _anything_ to me. He just…"

"What?"

Keith shifted so their shoulders were touching. "Talks to me, mostly. Or makes me go up against a Galra soldier, or through some stupid obstacle course. Sometimes –" Keith hesitated, and Hunk nudged him pointedly, trying to impart some comfort. "Sometimes he makes me watch what they do to you."

Oh.

 _Oh._

Hunk coughed, suddenly extremely uncomfortable. Most of his 'sessions' were a blur of pain and cruel taunts from his interrogators, but he knew that whatever happened, it was never a pretty sight. To think that Zarkon was making Keith _watch_.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said to try and lighten his friend's mood.

"It really is."

Right, he had forgotten that Keith was as blunt as a sledgehammer. Of course he would not understand that Hunk was trying to make him feel better.

"Do you know why he's –" just what was a good word to describe what Zarkon was having Keith do? "testing you like this? I mean, he must have some reason for having you…train."

Again, Keith fell silent. Hunk turned his head to look at the outline of his friend. "Keith…what does Zarkon want with you?"

"I don't…I don't know – not exactly."

"What do you _think_ he wants with you?" He remembered the strange encounter that had occurred in the throne room, the ease with which Keith and Zarkon had interacted. The way the Galra Emperor had touched Keith in a way that was familiar and intimate. It was odd, considering the two had only ever fought each other once.

Keith's outline seemed to become smaller.

Hunk's eyes widened as a thought – completely ludicrous and impossible – erupted in his head. Keith and Zarkon had only fought each other once _to his knowledge_.

"Keith –"

"I don't know what he wants Hunk! All I know is that he's had some weird interest in me ever since our battle, and he's been hounding me since and, and –"

"What do you mean _hounding you_? Keith, what the hell happened?"

"I don't know!" The other groaned, but Hunk could literally feel the guilt emitting from the small form beside him. "When we were separated, I always felt like, some _thing_ was watching me. I ignored it though because I know I'm bloody paranoid. But even after we got back together I would – hear this voice talking to me, like a whisper that randomly popped up that no one else ever heard. I thought I was going crazy, but then…"

Keith slammed a fist onto the floor to release some of his frustration. The noise startled Hunk.

"One night, I saw Zarkon. In the Castle hangar, he was just _there_. And I tried to fight him but it was like I was up against a damn shadow. I thought it was just a hallucination, hell it probably was. But he disarmed me and pinned me and he just kept saying all this _shit_ about how we'd fail and what he'd do to us afterwards."

Hunk leaned back, blinking in absolute shock because what Keith was saying made _no sense at all_. Zarkon. In the Castle. There but not. And why did he not _say_ anything about this? But something about that last sentence caught his attention.

"'Us'? Or 'you'?"

Keith's shoulder twitched against his own and Hunk knew he had hit a nerve. The other's breath stuttered, and he started trembling. "Me. He told me what he'd do to me."

And God, Hunk did not want to know, because if it was causing Keith this much distress it must be _bad_. Keith continued anyway.

"He basically said he wants me as some kind of – pet soldier. He spouted all this utter crap about breaking me and making me _his_ , using my skills and me fighting for him. And he kept – _touching me_ and I hated it but I couldn't fight back because nothing I did was working and then he called me –"

Keith broke off and took a couple of steadying breaths, reigning back in his escalating emotions. Hunk cautiously reached out and grasped at Keith's arm, wanting to help but not knowing how.

"What did he call you?"

" _Istylni_."

Hunk frowned at the clearly alien word, having never heard it before. But the way it slipped smoothly from Keith's mouth showed that his friend had said it plenty of times himself. "What does it mean?"

And suddenly Keith was jerking away from him, scrambling to his feet and moving to the other side of the cell. "W- Keith? Dude, what's wrong? What does _ista_ -whatever mean?"

He could not stand and follow, but the cell was only so big so it was not like Keith could actually go anywhere. Hunk tried to track his fellow Paladin's movements, focussing on the slightly darker shadow that paced back and forth the length of their cell.

"Keith, you can talk to me. You know I'm here for you buddy. But I can't help you if you keep everything bottled up. This has been eating at you for ages, I can tell, and unless you let it out it'll just get worse and worse and worse." He paused to see if his words had any effect.

" _Keith_. Talk to me."

The sound of Keith's boots on the floor stopped.

Hunk waited patiently, knowing that with Keith he could not push too much. It was two steps forward, one step back when interacting with the Red Paladin.

"Half-breed. It means half-breed."

The words were spoken so softly that Hunk almost missed them. "Half…" His eyes widened as the implications of what Keith said settled in his mind. "Of what?"

"You know the answer to that Hunk. Please don't make me say it."

"You're…you're a Galra?"

And that was, arguably, the worst possible thing Hunk could have said. The moment the words were out, he slapped a hand over his mouth in horror. He had not meant for that to be as condemning as it was.

Keith chuckled harshly, the sound almost a sob. "Yeah, disgusting, right? I mean, of all the fucking species I could be. What are the odds?" Again, there was something that was clearly a sniffle.

"I'm a fucking freak."

And Keith, he sounded absolutely _wrecked_. Hunk felt his eyes prickle, and his jaw clenched.

"No." He shook his head vehemently. "You're not a freak. You're Keith. So what if one of your parents was purple? I don't care – and none of the others will either."

"I think you underestimate just how much they hate the Galra. In case you forgot, Shiro's traumatised, Pidge's dad and brother are probably dead, Allura and Coran have lost _everything_ , and Lance – fuck, I don't know but he's never seemed particularly sympathetic. The second they find out they're going to lose their shit."

"That's bullshit!" Hunk was almost as surprised as Keith at his outburst. Because swearing was something Pidge and Keith did, Hunk never sounded right when he did it. But what Keith was saying was so utterly _wrong_ that he needed to vent his anger somehow.

"I think you're underestimating just how much we care about you Keith. Pidge sees you like another brother, you two are always swapping crazy conspiracy theories and sneaking off to do some insane experiments together. Allura and Coran see you as a valued member of the team, and they trust you to make the tough call because none of us have the guts to do it. And I know it might not always seem like it but Lance really respects you, and he would take a bullet for you in a second. He loves messing with you, and has been subtly trying to teach you how to – you know, interact better for months."

Hunk paused, biting his lip because what he was about to say could make or break this.

"And Shiro, he loves you Keith." and while Hunk might not know which _kind_ of love Shiro had for Keith, he would never doubt that it was there. "He cares so much about you that he worries _constantly_ whether you're alright. He hovers over you whenever you get so much as a cut because you both lost each other once and I don't think either of you can bear the thought of losing the other again. He always makes sure to watch your back in a battle and the only time he 'loses his shit' is when you pull some stupid, dangerous move that really shouldn't work but somehow always _does_."

Keith was silent, and Hunk continued before the boy had a chance to say anything.

"And me? God, dude do you have any idea how much I look up to you? How much I want to be like you? For years I wished I had even half your talent, but even though I knew I'd never measure up to you, that was okay – because I could count on you to have my back when I needed it. Hell, even here you're looking out for me. So don't you dare stand there and say that any of us would – for even a nanosecond – turn our backs on you because you are half-Galra. And sure, it might surprise the others, but I'm telling you now that _they won't care_ , because you're still the Keith that came up with us into space, still the Keith that Red chose, and you're still the Keith that battled the worst guy in the galaxy to give us a chance to save Allura."

Hunk stopped, breathing heavily. He did not regret a word of it though, because it was all true. And Keith had to see that, he had to know that _istylni_ or not, he was a Paladin and by God, they stuck together.

"Now will you please come back over here?"

He did not hear Keith move, but eventually, his friend's smaller body slid into place beside him, back pressed against the wall of the cell and knees drawn up to his chest. Hunk wordlessly wrapped an arm around Keith's shoulders and tugged the other more securely into his side.

Tentatively, long fingers curled into the fabric of his undersuit, right over his heart.

"Hunk?"

He hummed in acknowledgement.

"Thanks."

"Anytime buddy. Anytime."


End file.
